He pulled a chair out for her, and she slid into it, avoiding his eyes and that coolly challenging look in them, which made her feel disturbed, angry—and yet in some strange way elated, all at the same time . . .
'More coffee?'
'No, thank you. And thank you for the meal—it was delicious,' she added, all brittle politeness. She pushed back her chair, but as she stood up he demanded curtly, 'Where the hell do you think you're going?'
'Home, of course.' As his brows came down she went on hurriedly, 'If I ring the heating engineer now he should still get out to me this afternoon.'
'On New Year's Day? I don't think SO, somehow. And, besides, I've already told you—you are staying here tonight—'
'Tonight!' Alarm bells screeched in her brain. 'I most certainly—'
'Tomorrow you may go back, but tonight—willingly or unwillingly—you are staying. Do I make myself clear?'
Across the table their eyes met, angry green and wintry grey. She would out-stare him—she wouldn't back down. But she felt her own gaze flicker and drop.
'Suppose I say I won't?' she muttered.
'But you wouldn't be so unwise.'
He came to his feet with a lightning grace, and was round the table. Before she could back away, or snatch up a plate and smash it over his head, he pulled her to him and held her tight against him until her furious struggle-subsided.
'Don't resist me, my sweet.' He spoke very softly, but there was that hint of steel in his voice which sent icy water trickling down her spine.
'Why not?'
'Because it makes me all the more determined to have my own way.'
She tried to push herself clear of him, and this time he allowed her to break his grip, push herself to arm's length.
'You are a devil, Jared Tremayne Her voice was shaking, but she forced herself to meet his unyielding gaze.
'If you say so. But, devil or not, you are going to spend tonight in my—warm, snug little nest.'
He was doing it deliberately, picking up his earlier words.
'Warm and snug maybe,' she hurled back at him. 'But in our own separate beds.'
'Well, now, Petra, that is entirely up to you.'
He was so sure of himself, the arrogance oozing through every lazy syllable. She gave a bitter little laugh. 'Is it?'
'Oh, yes. One thing I promise you I will not force you. Nothing will happen—ever—between us that you do not want.'
'Well, that's all right, then. There's absolutely no need for me to worry.'
'But of course,' he agreed urbanely. 'The very last thing I want you to do is worry.'
Their eyes held for a split-second longer, then she turned away and began to stack up the plates.
'Leave that. I'll sling them in the dishwasher later. Now where are you off to?' as she moved towards the door.
'Oh, it's all right. I'm not running away,' she said acidly. 'I'm going up to get my jacket—
somehow I feel like a breath of air.'
'Good idea. I'll join you.'
'But ... ' her eyes went to the lap-top computer sitting at the far end of the big table ' . . . surely you'd rather work?'